


Eyecons

by ozuttly



Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: Baking, Cake decorating, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, alain does not understand human relationship dynamics, alain is a weenie and takeru is an angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:45:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozuttly/pseuds/ozuttly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They’re cake pops,” Takeru replies with a smile. “Kanon-chan bought a machine for making them the other day, and I thought it would be fun to decorate them. Look, this one’s Musashi.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a short little birthday gift for Mage-of-eternal-time on tumblr. :) And because Alain/Takeru is a good, pure ship.

They’re round. Alain stares at the objects on the plate incredulously, one eyebrow rising. His first thought is, instinctually, an eyecon - they even look similar, with the same colours and patterns - but he’s not about to make that mistake again. Kanon had laughed at him the last time.

“Those aren’t takoyaki,” he says flatly instead, and Takeru grins as he sets the plate down on the table. He then settles himself down next to Alain, reaching for one of the not-eyecons and holding it up proudly.

“They’re cake pops,” Takeru replies with a smile. “Kanon-chan bought a machine for making them the other day, and I thought it would be fun to decorate them. Look, this one’s Musashi.”

Looking closely, Alain can see the resemblance between the ball in Takeru’s hand to the red eyecon that he uses constantly in battle. Though the lines are a bit wobbly, and the number on top is lopsided. Alain still takes it out of his fingers, inspecting the craftsmanship with an approving eye.

“So it was an eyecon, this time,” he muses, while Takeru laughs. It’s a light and musical sound, and Alain always enjoys hearing it. Such thoughts used to upset him, when he had first decided to move into the temple along with Takeru and the rest. Now, though, the gentle calm that fills his chest is comforting, even moreso with the warm weight of Takeru pressed against his side. Takeru, who is still smiling, looking proud and pleased.

“I was just thinking that it would be fun to decorate them together,” the boy says, and Alain raises an eyebrow. Decorate them? He had thought they were food, but… As if sensing his confusion, Takeru plucks the eyecon out of his hand and pops it into his mouth. Alain watches in mild horror (even though he knows it’s not REALLY an eyecon, it’s still disturbing to see) and Takeru laughs around the food in his mouth.

“If they’re food,” Alain begins, reclaiming his composure quickly enough. “Then why decorate them? What is the point?”

The amount of time put into it seems like a waste, but Takeru merely shrugs his shoulders in response, picking up one of the other assorted items on the plate. He twists the top off of the strange tube, then begins to draw on one of the plain balls on the plate.

“Because it’s fun,” he says simply, and Alain’s eyes drift up from his hands to his face, taking in his expression. It’s childlike and happy, the way Takeru so often is, and Alain feels something warm clutching his chest. Fun. Before, he would have considered the task foolish and pointless, but now, he wonders. Takeru is clearly happy, and the look on his face is one he has not seen on one of his own people in a very long time. He hadn’t even thought that it was possible, to find joy in such a simple thing.

“Look,” Takeru says as he holds up his finished work, a rough approximation of the Necrom eyecon in his hands. “It’s you!”

Alain blinks, staring at the object before he can feel his cheeks heat ever so slightly. He harumphs as he crosses his arms over his chest, but he leans in takes the object from Takeru’s fingers with his mouth. It’s incredibly sweet, not like a takoyaki at all, but the change is not unpleasant. In fact, it tastes quite good, and he lets out a pleased sound. He licks Takeru’s finger clean of icing, savouring the sweetness, and Takeru laughs yet again.

His cheeks are flushed, and he looks a little different than normal. Like the action Alain had taken had been strange, but Alain can’t understand why. Frowning, he quickly turns back to the plate in front of him. He does not want Takeru to be uncomfortable, but the situation now seems tense, so he grabs one of the tubes sitting on the plate and picks it up. Takeru blinks as he watches him work, and the scrutiny brings even more heat to Alain’s face.

This is harder than he thought. Even though he tries to keep his hand steady, the lines come out wobbly and slanted. Alain squints his eyes in displeasure as he tries to correct them, but it just becomes messier. Getting frustrated, he finally tosses the tube aside and looks away. Takeru blinks, then looks down at his finished work.

It’s far from skillfully done, but even so it’s clearly the Ghost eyecon sitting on the table in front of him. Takeru is stunned for a moment, before Alain grunts.

“It’s you,” he mumbles, and Takeru is taken aback. Then, his smile returns, soft and happy, and he picks up the cake pop.

“It’s perfect,” he says as he tosses it into his mouth.

Alain isn’t even the one tasting it, but he can see the enjoyment on Takeru’s face, and all he can think of is the lingering sweetness clinging to his tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never planned to continue this, but somebody requested more Alain/Takeru. The stories are only really vaguely connected.

The cake pop maker, Takeru assures him, is easy to work. It can even be used to make Takoyaki, he says, which catches Alain’s interest immediately, but Takeru had insisted on showing him how to use it the proper way first.

Baking is not nearly as easy as Takeru had led him to believe. Alain stares incredulously at the bowl of batter before him, as though glaring at the pieces of egg shell in the mix will make them go away. It doesn’t. Takeru leans over his shoulder, a whisk in his hand as he stirs the icing he was preparing.

“Ah, you have to be careful not to get the shell in,” he chastises, but his voice is not actually scolding. Instead, it sounds oddly affectionate, like Alain is a child who has made an adorable mistake. Somehow, that’s even worse, and Alain can feel his cheeks heating up as he reaches in and plucks the small white pieces out of the mess.

“Your ‘cooking’ is so needlessly complicated,” he grumbles under his breath, the tips of his ears red. He can hear Takeru laughing behind him, and he is determined not to look around. Instead, he grabs the other whisk from the table and begins to stir the concoction in his bowl, perhaps a little bit too aggressively.

“You don’t have to sulk about it,” Takeru teases. “Nobody’s perfect their first time.”

Alain is used to perfection, though. He’s used to everything going a certain way, like smooth clockwork, but since coming to the human world he’s realized that nothing is ever that simple. Here, life is messy - humans need to cook and eat and learn and do all sorts of things that had never been a part of the equation before.

At first, Alain did not like it. Now, however, he is starting to feel differently.

Takeru leans forward, dipping his finger into the batter. He puts it to his lips and grins, sunny and bright, and Alain feels his chest tighten in the way that it has so often lately. He doesn’t know what name to put to the feeling - it was one he had only ever felt around Specter before, and even then, that was not quite the same. The uncertainty unsettles him, but not enough for him to leave.

“Mmm, it’s not bad!” Takeru exclaims proudly. Alain looks back at him and scowls, trying to figure out if he’s taking pity on him or being sincere. Takeru is nothing if not genuine, though, and somehow that makes the heat in Alain’s face grow even more.

“I must taste it for myself to be sure,” he says stubbornly, and is about to reach into the bowl, but he sees a hint of batter on Takeru’s lower lip. It would be a waste, he thinks as he leans in and licks it off.

Takeru stills immediately, his cheeks flushing. He almost drops the bowl of icing, and Alain doesn’t know why he’s being like this.

“It’s not terrible,” he admits grudgingly as he pulls back, looking at the way that pink dusts over Takeru’s nose. The sight is strangely pleasant, and he doesn’t understand why.

“Alain, you can’t just–” Takeru begins, but he cuts off, unsure of what to say. Alain hesitates, before pressing one finger to his own lips. Was that inappropriate of him?

“I simply didn’t want to waste it,” he says, and somehow Takeru’s face seems to fall. He sighs, but he doesn’t seem surprised as he places one hand on Alain’s shoulder and sets his bowl down on the table.

“Alain, you can’t just do that without permission,” he insists. “It’s… something special.”

Alain frowns, scrunching up his nose in distaste. He hadn’t seen the action as anything particularly heinous, but then, he supposes that he still has much to learn. Still, the wording of Takeru’s admonishment grates on him.

“Tenkuuji Takeru,” he says a bit more sharply than he means to. “Are you saying that I am not special?”

It twists in his gut, the implication that there are things in this world he is not allowed to do. More than that, though, is the idea that there are things that Takeru does not want him to do, does not think him worthy of. Alain is not used to being denied, and while he does not wish to overstep any boundaries, he can’t say that it doesn’t annoy him.

Takeru’s expression softens as he places one hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He says, and Alain peeks back at him for a moment. His hands holding onto the batter bowl are twitching, and he quickly begins to stir it again. He feels the need to do something other than just stand there. Takeru watches him, his lips quirking up. “It’s just… It’s something you only do with somebody you like.”

Alain hunches his shoulders, stirring faster. He doesn’t want to appear childish, but somehow that hurts even more.

‘So you don’t like me,’ are the words he doesn’t say, but Takeru seems to realize them anyways, as his hand stills.

He exhales slowly, then leans in close and presses his lips to Alain’s cheek. Alain freezes, feeling the heat of Takeru’s face so close to his, his body pressed up against his back.

“I like you, Alain,” he reassures him, though his smile seems a bit more nervous than usual. Alain feels like there are butterflies in his stomach, and he doesn’t know why. “I just think we should… you know. Talk about this a bit more, before we…” He hesitates, and Alain frowns.

He wants to try again, to see if this time Takeru will be more open if he kisses him. But he decides against it, instead turning back to the batter in front of him.

“…If we talk now, the cake will never be done,” he says, but he knows from the soft chuckle coming from behind him that his red ears betrayed him.


End file.
